I first experienced a loss of sexual desire several years ago, just after I turned 40. For a long time, I thought it was me. I thought maybe it was my age. After reading every book and article I could find on sex, relationships, and marriage, I started to wonder if maybe it wasn’t me. Maybe it was my marriage, maybe it was my husband. I never wanted to be “that woman“. The one that screwed around on her husband. But, I had an affair about six or seven years ago. It didn’t last long. But, that’s when I knew my marriage was over. It wasn’t a lack of sexual desire, it was a lack of desire for my husband. I didn’t want him or the marriage. There was nothing wrong with my sex drive. I told my husband that I’d had an affair. He changed for about a month or so. He was very loving and attentive. But it didn’t last. He loves differently than I need to be loved and it’s just not in him to love me that way. A few months after I ended the affair, I got involved with someone else. I know. I shouldn’t have. I’ve experienced things with this other man that I never thought possible. Felt things I thought were only possible in movies. He’s a romantic. Not flowers or candy or jewellery, but he talks and listens. He hears me. He tries to understand me and give me what I need. Deep, intimate conversations. Looking into one another’s eyes. Soft caresses. Words of adoration. These things he gives me almost daily. I never knew I needed romance because I’d never had it. This is how I need to be loved. After having felt this way, I can’t stay in my marriage. It’s not fair to either of us. I’m not sure what happened. Did we grow apart? Did one or both of us change? Do people’s needs change as they get older? What did the author think about cheating on her spouse? - she never wanted to be "that woman" - she still loved her spouse - she was totally okay with it - not enough information
she never wanted to be "that woman"

(Question)
As Julie kept asking question after question, all I could think of was how desperately I needed a normal, healthy relationship. As far as most of my relationships went, mine with Julie was great. But it was great in all the wrong places. There really wasn't much more to it than sex. Even though it was a mind-numbing, bathe-in-gasoline-to-slough-the-shame-from-my-soul kind of sex, it didn't matter. At the end of the day we were just objects to each other. We couldn't talk about anything else. We'd tried before, but it had usually led to an afternoon of power-fucking in every changing room on Rodeo Drive. It was a fun ride, but nothing more. And like every great ride, Julie was beautiful, fast, and could turn on a dime in the blink of an eye. "I don't understand, Dingo." I couldn't tell if it was the 12 stitches over my eye giving me the headache or Julie's prattling. I bit off a stretch of red tape and put it over the empty socket where my taillight should have been while I balanced the phone between my shoulder and swollen cheek. "Julie, I told you. Darby took the box." "I get that, but--." "The box my dad hand-carved just before he died." I could feel the two edges of skin stitched together pull at each other every time my jaw moved. "Yes, yes, and the box protects your family's dirty little secret or your mother's pride and joy or whatever the hell it is you're calling it this week." "Hey, I told you not to go digging--. " "I don't care what it is, Dingo! I couldn't give a shit about that damn box or what's inside. The only thing I want to know is what the fuck your ex-wife was doing there." So there it was. And I thought she was jealous just because somebody else got to beat the living crap out of me for a change. "Julie, I didn't even know she was in town until after I was in the hospital." Dingo was getting stitches at the hospital - not enough information - before he knew his ex-wife was in town - after he knew his ex-wife was in town - with his ex-wife present
(Answer)
before he knew his ex-wife was in town

Ques:If you turned on the TV towards the end of 2002 you could have been forgiven for thinking that Britain had gone absolutely horseshit mental. Every week, it seemed, another pretty young girl from a nice family, who was happy and popular and always did well at school, was being kidnapped or murdered by what the Sun newspaper cheerfully termed 'evil paedo scum'. Naming and shaming was as popular a feature in the Murdoch press as Page Three girls and discounted holidays to Butlin's. Of course you can't blame parents for wanting to keep their children safe; that's pretty much the job description of a parent. And, on the face of it, the tabloids were doing a public service in warning us about the paedophile menace lurking in our midst. The problem came when it turned out that a huge number of these concerned tabloid-reading parents were also absolute fucking morons. For every story of an actual sex offender being driven from their house by a baying mob there was one like that of Dr Yvette Cloete, a doctor at the Royal Gwent Hospital in Newport, South Wales, who returned home from work to find that a group of 'concerned parents' had daubed the word 'paedo' on her front door in bright red paint. Dr Cloete was a consultant paediatrician. Easy mistake. If you're an absolute fucking moron. And so it was that one hung-over morning, after reading yet another story about vigilantes who had threatened to stone Maxine Carr, the girlfriend of Soham killer Ian Huntley, to death during her high-profile trial for perverting the course of justice, I decided to set up a website parodying this collective national madness. The result of two or three hours of hung-over labour was thinkofthechildren.co.uk, a spoof campaign site which claimed to offer a handy online guide for crazy vigilantes of all stripes to co-ordinate their crazy vigilante efforts. Although there are a few parts of the site I'm still a bit proud of, the majority of it was, I freely admit, satire of the lowest order. Whose front door had the word "paedo" painted on it? - not enough information - Yvette Cloete - The narrator - Maxine Carr

Ans:
Yvette Cloete